


The Luckiest

by delires



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 09:33:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delires/pseuds/delires
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summer is too hot and too huge. (Post 3x22)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Luckiest

They haven’t talked much about what comes next.

After seeing Rachel onto the train, Blaine drives them back to Kurt’s house and follows him inside. He latches the door when Kurt doesn’t bother to. In the hallway, he picks one of Finn’s discarded hoodies off the floor and then hangs it neatly on a hook. This is what Blaine does when he has no idea what to say or do to make things right. Monogrammed towels and hankies at graduation. Quiet little tidy gestures that don’t really help and yet mean the world.

They make Kurt’s heart ache.

Upstairs in his half-packed, post-it tagged bedroom, they lie on the big bed and don’t talk some more. They don’t even touch. They haven’t much, since.

They just lie there until Kurt closes his eyes. He feels Blaine scoot closer then and put an arm around his waist. Blaine smells like outdoors, like train stations, like things only people like Rachel can have. Those things Blaine will probably have too, come next year.

Kurt doesn’t move. He stays still and keeps his eyes closed until he falls asleep for real.

*

Summer is too hot and too huge.

In rebellion, Kurt wears a lot of black.

He feels widowed, bereaved, like some tortured soul from a gothic novel. He listens to ‘Wuthering Heights’ on repeat until the taste of Kate Bush’s tremulous high notes start to make him feel physically sick.

One Saturday afternoon, when Finn and Carole have disappeared on a suspiciously-timed trip to the mall, Kurt’s dad tries to talk to him about “options”.

Kurt doesn’t want to talk, isn’t ready to think about it and makes that quite clear.

He is not an idiot. He knows the conversation will have to happen eventually. He just needs more time.

The weeks pass, full of texts and invitations from friends. Kurt ignores most of them. In the end, he tells Blaine to start going to things on his own, so Blaine doesn’t have to miss out too.

He knows he shouldn’t be pulling away like this. He knows that it makes Blaine sad.

Soon enough, the ex-seniors of West McKinley begin to drop like flies. Rachel is the first to leave. Then Mike, Quinn, Mercedes after that. Finn will be next. Kurt is secretly dreading that one. The house doesn’t feel so awful when Finn is there, bumbling through the rooms and turning tables and trashcans into makeshift drum kits. It will be so much worse when Kurt is left behind alone, because Kurt was the only one who chose wrong, who misjudged. Who failed.

*

The day of Santana’s birthday is a scorcher. It is too hot not to have the air con switched up high, even though it wreaks havoc on Kurt’s skin. He slathers himself in moisturiser, then sits by his bedroom window and hums along with the alto section of Rutter’s ‘Requiem’.

Around seven-ish, when the party is due to kick off, Santana starts heckling him by text.

**19:05**   
_Bitch, you better show your pasty face tonight. I don’t care if you’re dressed like Wednesday Adams. I want you there. We’ll drive the emo out of you with tequila. Xoxo_

**19:22**   
_If you don’t come, I’m going to personally seduce your boy and hold him hostage until you come back to the light._

**19:46**   
_Don’t think I wouldn’t do that. He’s so small. Easy to overpower._

Kurt ignores all of these. It is only the next message which makes him hesitate and reconsider.

**19:59**   
_Please, Hummel. I dig your drama. But we all miss you too much. Xoxo_

He gnaws on his bottom lip and stares at the trees outside of his window, which are dry and silent in the still air.

In a moment of madness, he picks up his phone. When Blaine answers, Kurt says “Hey, are you still driving to Santana’s tonight? Do you feel like picking me up?”

The way Blaine tries so hard to not sound too excited registers as adorable even through the depths of Kurt’s despondency.

*

Santana’s yard is strung with chains of fairy lights inside little paper lanterns. There is a barbeque which has just about burnt out. Music plays through the open windows of the house. Kurt can hear Finn laughing from inside. Over by the ice boxes full of beer, Brittany is walking Blaine through the complicated choreography she has designed to go with ‘Together in Electric Dreams’ by Human League.

Coming to the party was a horrible idea. Everyone is too giddy and there are too many important faces missing. Kurt can’t join in.

He lingers on the peripheries instead, nursing a wine cooler.

Santana sidles up to him, slinky in jean shorts and a red halter-neck. She stands beside him, watching Brittany and sipping her drink through a straw.

“You deserved it more than Berry the dwarf,” she says to him, after a while.

For one horrible moment, Kurt can’t help thinking, ‘Yes, yes, I did deserve it more.’ But he quickly shakes that idea right out of his head. It is too prickly and dangerous.

“It doesn’t work like that,” he says. His voice comes out whispery, like it hasn’t been used in years. Santana actually has to lean closer to hear. “And I didn’t deserve it more.”

“Please,” she scoffs.

Kurt turns away. He watches Brittany kick Blaine’s feet into the exact formation she’s looking for. When she steps away, Blaine performs the turn perfectly and then holds up his hand for a delighted high-five.

“Besides,” Kurt says. “There’s only room for one superstar in a relationship.”

“Um. Hello? Brangelina? Both stars. Both super fine,” Santana says. “You guys could be like them. Adopt a whole multiracial rainbow of kids from around the world. You’d be like family pride flag.”

That makes Kurt come close to cracking a smile. He catches himself, but not before Santana sees it. She grins and holds her pinky up enticingly. “Team homo?”

Kurt reluctantly hooks his finger around hers. “Team homo.”

“Hey.” Santana grabs his shoulders. “I have the most smoking hot idea. What say you, me, the Britt machine and...” she points in Blaine’s direction, “Captain Twink over there...”

“I don’t want us to have a four-way, Santana,” Kurt interrupts promptly. “I’ve told you before I’m not comfortable with that idea.”

“Ugh, don’t flatter yourself, Hummel. I’ve already had my fill of dick for this lifetime.”

“Charming.”

“No. We should take a road trip together. The four of us.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow. “And go where, pray tell?”

“Anywhere. You got that sweet little ride, don’t you? We can just burn some rubber on that baby and go til we’re bored.”

“You’re not still talking about Blaine, are you? Because I’m dangerously close to having to defend his honour here.”

“See?” Santana says with a cackle, “You’re already sounding like yourself again.”

That pulls Kurt up short. He had just been dangerously close to forgetting what a tragic and hopeless mess his life has become.

As though she can see what he’s thinking, Santana shakes him.

“Fight that emo, Hummel. Let Berry have Broadway. What’s Broadway anyway? You’re going to do something so much more amazing than that.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know yet.” Santana releases her tight grip on his shoulders. Her touch turns gentle as she smoothes his already immaculate shirt collar. “But I personally can’t wait to see what kind of fabulous bitch you make rise out of these black ashes.”

Kurt is kind of blindsided by that. She’s so full of brazen truth. It is hard not to be convinced by her. But at that moment, they are accosted by Finn, who comes lumbering up to them in excitement.

“Dudes,” he says, hands flailing, “you have to come. You have to come see this right fucking now because you are not going to believe─”

“Step off, Hudson.” Santana snaps, squaring up to him. “We are having an intense moment that you are not a part of.”

Finn pauses, his eyebrows high. “I just wanted to tell you that Sam’s about to try to drink that entire bottle of outdated schnapps without blowing chunks,” he says.

“Oh my God. This is going to be trouty carnage. I have to watch.”

Santana downs the last of her drink, drops the empty cup on the lawn, then takes Kurt’s face in her hands. She kisses him on the lips three times, hard and quick.

“Will you snap out of it?” she asks.

“I’ll snap out of it,” Kurt promises.

Santana hugs as hard as she kisses. Kurt hugs her back, the silky skin of her bare shoulders hot beneath his palms. Her fierceness makes his throat feel tight and lingers around him even after she has walked away.

The sun is almost down, already dipped below the line of houses across the street. But the air is still warm and the sky is a happy orange.

It seems stupid for Kurt to be wearing black on a day like this. To be sulking here on his own in a yardful of friends. None of these guys cares one bit about the pointless dreams he can’t achieve. They’re too busy loving him for all the things he already is.

Across the yard, Puck is trying to usher more people inside to watch Sam’s stunt. Brittany is staring at him blankly, while Blaine shakes his head and clings to her arm in case Puck tries to drag him away bodily. Throw-up makes Blaine feel faint.

Before Kurt can even think about checking himself, he is walking towards them with a great big smile on his face. They break off mid conversation as he approaches.

“Kurt. I thought you’d died,” Brittany says, her eyes wide, “Me and Lord Tubbington held a candlelit vigil. We built a shrine. It’s the first time in months that I’ve seen him care about something other than drugs.”

Kurt pats her arm. “That’s sweet, Britt.”

“Are you a ghost right now?” she whispers.

Puck jerks his head in the direction of the house. “Bro, are you watching the puke-fest?”

“No. I think we’re both good,” Kurt says, stepping closer to Blaine. “You and Brittany go ahead, though. I would hate for you to miss it.”

“Your loss, dudes. Coming, Brittany?” Puck offers his arm like a gentleman. Brittany just looks at it for a moment before draping her jacket over it and then walking off alone, leaving Puck to hurry after her.

Once the yard has cleared out, Blaine turns to Kurt gratefully. He is already looking a little pale. Kurt knows he is about to say something about throw-up, so he pre-empts it with a kiss, sliding his palm up the side of Blaine’s neck and slotting their mouths together perfectly.

Blaine is blinking quickly when they break apart. He licks his lips. His gaze flickers over Kurt’s face, reading from left to right.

“What’s up?”

“I am the luckiest,” Kurt says, totally honest.

Blaine draws a breath. Releases it slowly.

Kurt takes him by the hand. “Will you bring me home?”

Blaine squeezes his fingers.

“Always,” he says.


End file.
